


Book IV: The Emperor

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Chance Meetings, Discovery, Dreams, Drinking & Talking, Escape, F/M, Fate, Fortune Telling, Games, Investigations, Magic, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Plague, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15261726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: After an unusual breakfast with Nadia, Shayde beings her investigation into the murder of the late Count Lucio, starting with Dr. Devorak’s desk. The Countess comes up with a test to be sure Shayde is genuine and things don’t go as anyone planned.





	1. Day

I’m walking down the black stone path, whipped by wind and rust-colored sand. The thick, dark clouds hanging overhead are heavier than before. Before ...? I’m dreaming again. Then ... where is Asra? The unforgiving wind burns my eyes as I search the desolate landscape. Up there, ahead of me. Too far ahead to reach, I see my teacher and the lumbering beast.

Calling out is useless. I have no voice. Asra and the beast are standing still, side by side. And as I look harder ... I see that they have stopped at a fork in the road. One way goes east, and the other west. Asra dismounts from the creature, placing a hand on its hide. A lingering look, and it turns down the path to the east, disappearing into the tempestuous sea of sand. Asra turns to the path on the west, and I know at once that he is going the wrong way.

“Not that way! Not again!” I cry, though no sound comes out. Again? His head turns. Even from the uncrossable distance, I feel our eyes meet. It’s too far. I can’t reach him. Asra drops his gaze, turns back, and continues down the westward path, fading from my sight. I’m calling after him even as my dream is swallowed by sand. Sunlight tickles my face and I open my eyes with a groan. An unfamiliar voice reaches me.

“Morning, Shayde!” I scramble backward in bed. For a moment, I have no idea where I am. And then I remember. The room is so fine, I could only be at the Palace. Portia busies herself with the curtains while I get my bearings about me.

“What a lovely sunrise. Did you sleep well?” Portia says, never ceasing her movement around the room. “I hope the dogs didn’t wake you last night. Something set them off, they were causing a ruckus. Sniffing around the garden, of all places. I was afraid we might have had an intruder! Wouldn’t that be exactly what we need right now.” She laughs, thankfully oblivious to my shifty gaze.

“Well, I didn’t find anyone. It’s a good thing too, because all I had on hand was a shovel.” Portia goes on. “That could’ve gotten ugly. Anyway, breakfast will be served shortly. I’ll let you freshen up, then we’ll head over. By the way ... the Countess has requested that you bring your cards with you.” I sit up at that, fully awake.

“Ah, these are for you.” Portia adds suddenly. She sets a neat pile of clothing on the bed beside me. I unfold the top piece, marveling at the way the fabric moves.

“I hope you don’t mind ...“ Portia interjects. “I have explicit orders to make sure you’re not wearing the same thing you had on last night.” She looks nervous as she says it. I blink, glancing over my old clothes. They might be looking a little worse for wear, I have to admit.

“I’ll give you some privacy.” Portia ducks out the door. I move the silky garments aside and toss back the my bedcovers. I disrobe and pull on my new outfit, fumbling with its delicate clasps and buttons. The fabric flutters around my limbs like a gentle breeze. It feels as though I am wearing nothing at all, which it somewhat disconcerting. But I’ve always loved fine fabrics. Plus, it is sure to please the Countess if I wear it. May as well. I retrieve my bag, peeking inside to make sure Faust isn’t hiding there. No sign of her. Sighing, I pull the bag onto my shoulder and step out into the hall where Portia is waiting.

“Oooh! Don’t you look nice!” Portia gushes when she sees me. “The Countess has a real eye for fashion. She’ll definitely be pleased. Let’s not keep her waiting, shall we?” My chest swells with confidence. Fighting back a grin, I follow Portia to the dining room. The room is bright, far more welcoming than the night before. Servants are bustling to and fro. The Countess is already seated when I enter and she appears to be nursing a headache. I know how that feels. She spares me a brief glance from beneath the hand cradling her forehead.

“Good morning, Shayde. I trust you had a pleasant night’s sleep.” Countess Nadia says. When I nod, she goes on. “Well, I had an exceptionally miserable one. The dreams were ... vivid. Enough to frighten me awake, and yet I cannot remember any of them. And then, of course, the dogs were feeling active last night. Hello, Portia.” The handmaiden hovers by her mistress’ side, attentive.

“Coffee, milady?” Portia asks. The Countess gives her a grimace.

“Ugh, please.” A nod, and Portia goes to the gleaming golden contraption nestled in the far corner. The Countess strokes her temples, and lowers her hand from her face. The full force of her gaze falls upon me.

“Ah, you’ve changed. Is that the ensemble I sent down?” The Countess musses as she looks me over. Portia nods as she sets the coffee in front of the Countess. “My, my. The difference is astounding. One would hardly recognize you. The fit appears to be correct. Those garments you came with were most unkind to you.” Under her shameless scrutiny, my face starts to prickle with heat.

“Who would have guessed that you were so becoming underneath? Ah, and how nicely these colors compliment your tones.” Countess Nadia goes on. “I do have an impeccable eye, don’t I, Portia?” Portia nods, smiling at me fondly.

“Impeccable.” A sumptuous egg dish is placed before me, drawing my attention. Meanwhile, the blue-feathered servant from last night bustles to the Countess’ side to report some goings-on. I drown out the chatter and focus on my meal, marveling at its delicate texture. And yet ... my eyes keep flicking up to the painting on the wall. It feels as though it’s watching me. As if it is more than flat, painted eyes. The feeling is unsettling.

“Well, you may tell them that they have no choice in the matter.” I am dimly aware of the Countess speaking to her staff.

“Will that be all, your grace?” A chamberlain asks with a bow. Countess Nadia nods.

“That will be all. Now then ... Shayde.” The Countess’ voice shakes me from my thoughts. “I understand that you have your cards with you?”Cautiously, I pull my satchel up from the floor and into my lap. I look up at her and nod.

“Splendid. Please, come closer.” The servants promptly relocate me to a seat at the Countess side. This is the closest we’ve been since our first meeting. It almost makes me nervous to breathe.

“First and foremost ... in thirteen days, we will be celebrating the Count’s birthday. Preparations are already well underway. So I must ask you to be expedient in this. It is not my intention to rush you. But by the time the day is out ...“ The Countess begins. “I will need to know whether you intend to cooperate with me. Unless, perchance, you have decided to do so already?”

“Yes.” I say, simply. I knew before I came to the Palace that I was going to help her. The Countess’ weary visage blossoms into a satisfied smile.

“A wise choice. I am pleased to hear it.” Countess Nadia says. “If you serve me well, you will have my utmost gratitude. And of course, a generous reward.” I perk up at the mention of this reward. So much has happened, I had forgotten all about it.

“Ah, that eager face will be my undoing.” Countess Nadia says with a smile. “And yours as well, if you do not learn to master it. Together, we will make a fine team. Our forces combined are quite formidable. You and I, my guard, and those cards of yours.” Her gaze falls pointedly to the bag in my lap. I’m compelled to pull it closer to me. Instead, I retrieve the deck from its hiding spot and place it hesitantly on the table. The Countess’ eyes flash with interest. She smiles, looking out the window with a musical sigh.

“It’s a glorious morning, a new day. I trust that my fortune will have changed.” Countess Nadia says. “Read the cards for me again, Shayde. I would like to know what they have to share on the heels of this fortuitous news.” I start shuffling. As usual, the feeling of my master’s deck in my hands is a little unnerving. The cards leave a faint tingling sensation on my fingertips. Distracting, but familiar. It helps me to empty my mind. 

“The Emperor.” I announce after the card is flipped face up. The Countess looks at me eagerly.

“And what does he say for me?” She asks. I peer into the face of the card, and I listen. The answer is waiting for me.

“You have proven your wisdom, your intelligence, your ability to rule.” I say. “Your lessers no longer hesitate to bow before you. Where there was doubt, you have built trust. Where there was chaos, you have made order. When your will is done, this city will sing your praise to the stars, and celebrate as it never has before.” There is a collective fluttering, ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’. I hadn’t realized the servants were watching as I had my eyes on the card the whole time. The faces of the staff are radiant with delight. Portia has her hands clasped to her heart. And yet ... the Countess looks unimpressed. She lifts the card from the table and examines it with a neutral eye.

“Well, that is all very good of him to say.” Abruptly, she stands. The servants snap to attention. “Shayde. Would you care to join me for a stroll? There is something I would like to show you.” Like a flower unfurling, she extends a graceful hand to me. It takes a moment for me to realize I’m meant to take it. Awkwardly, I place my hand in hers and she pulls me to my feet. Her cool touch slips away, and she breezes past me.

“Come. I suspect you will be very glad you did.” Countess Nadia says. Hastily, I gather my cards and return them to my bag, slinging it onto my shoulder.

“Portia.” The Countess says, simply.

“Coming!” Comes the quick reply. I fall into step behind the Countess, and we exitto the hall. Countess Nadia’s steps are effortlessly swift. It takes some effort to keep her pace. I don’t pay much attention to my surroundings until they start to look familiar. Our path leads us past the marble staircase. I find myself searching the stairs as we pass. No dogs this time ... or perhaps they are curled up in the shadows, out of sight. The Countess notices my shift in attention, and smiles sweetly.

“If you are looking for the hounds, they will be having their morning meal right about now.” She says. “You seem to have a kinship with animals. In fact, Portia tells me that you were rather enchanted with one of our security eels. I find them rather enchanting as well. Though they are quite unhappy here. Their native climate is deep in the South. Icy, dark waters.” I recall the way the creature under the bridge had twisted itself into the mud. Probably a lot cooler that way. Poor things. This kingdom is too hot for me most days and I am almost always cold. Asra teases me about wearing a shawl most of the time.

“Well then ... here we are.” Countess Nadia announces, as she comes to a halt. We have arrived before an unexpected panel in the wall, three by four times my height. It is crafted of smooth wood in all tones of rippling honey. Carved with dizzying intricacy is a great tree in the height of maturity. Its winding roots coil around each other and into the floor. Its leaves and fruit are inlaid with jewels, precious stones, and mother of pearl. The panel glitters and glows from every angle. I’m dazzled by its beauty, and barely notice Portia is lagging behind us. I become aware of her presence when she comes to stand beside me. Nervousness is radiating from her in jittery waves.

“Portia, if you would be so kind.” The Countess asks, with a gesture toward the panel.

“Of course.” Portia replies right away. She retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket. There are about a dozen, each carved of the same wood as the panel, and each bearing a distinct jewel. One by one, she finds their locks in the panel, though I wonder how. Their locations seem completely random to me. With each key, the roots of the tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor. When all the locks have been turned, the panel folds upon itself on either side like a paper fan. The room beyond is revealed, and my breath catches in my chest.

I suck in a breath, tasting greenery and golden pages in the air. There are books everywhere. Books winding up the walls, reaching for the ceiling. A library. Asra has told me tales about places like this. I’ve always wanted to see one for myself.

“Do you read, Shayde?” Countess Nadia asks upon seeing my awestruck expression. I nod, still looking around in delighted interest. The Countess tempers her surprise, but I still see it regardless.

“Ah. Somehow, I suspected that you might.” She says. I follow her further into the room, and the door closes itself behind us with a rhythmic, mechanical sound. Portia trails at our heels, fidgeting with the ring of keys.

“It is a great gift, to read. Where I come from, it is shared amongst all citizens, regardless of birth.” The Countess says to me. “But woefully uncommon here. I suppose you were taught to read by a relative? Or ... your master, perhaps? Am I wrong? They say the two of you are very close.” Before I can come up with a reply, Portia speaks.

“Milady is in a teasing mood this morning.”

“Indeed.” Agrees the Countess. “Ah, my headache is lifting. This way, if you please.” There are books of all kinds, tall, crisp volumes on mathematics beside broad leather atlases of faraway lands. I had no idea so many books existed. Each one with years, maybe lifetimes of wisdom to share ... My fingers itch to run along their spines, but I resist. Books like these are worth more than anything I could afford to barter. My longing is quite plainly seen by the Countess.

“You know, Shayde ... you _are_ my guest. If you should like to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment ...“ The Countess stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves. “... I would have your undivided attention here.” Intrigued, I peer around the bookcase. Below a tiny window, cast in its slim ray of daylight, is a desk. It is stacked with books, journals, and papers, scrolls tucked in its nooks and drawers. Despite the clutter, everything is organized. Someone’s place of study, perfectly preserved in time.

“Shayde, do you know why Doctor Devorak came to the Palace?” Countess Nadia asks. She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Ah, I suppose you would ... after all, your master was here for the same purpose. To concoct a cure for the disease.” My blood runs cold. As she asked, I give the Countess my full attention. The disease ... the Red Plague, as it was called, swept through the city like wildfire. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no why to tell who would be the next to fall. Cases are rare, now. I can’t remember the last time I saw the telltale red instead of the whites of someone’s eyes.

“As you know, the Count and I called upon the city, to whomever might be of use in this quest.” The Countess goes on. “Physicians, alchemists, witches ... yes, even fortune tellers. All were invited to the Palace, in hopes that our resources may aid in their research ... Whoever was able to find a cure, the city and the Palace both would forever be in their debt.” Countess Nadia pauses and looks at the desk in thought.

“Perhaps he was plotting even then ... but the Doctor accepted our invitation. As did your Master Asra.” Her gaze shifts up to the window. A strange shadow crosses her lovely sunlit face. Curious, I lean in such a way as to get a better view of the window. Odd. It’s in exactly the right spot to see the willow tree which hangs over the fountain in the garden below. The Countess speaks again.

“While they toiled away in search of a cure, the Palace provided everything they might need.” Countess Nadia rests her hand atop one of the many texts gathering dust. “This desk belonged to the good Doctor. I have had its contents examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found. But with such a volume of evidence, something may yet be hiding here. Something I may have overlooked. Perhaps you will have better luck than I in finding it.” Her touch lingers on the cover of a well-worn tome before she shakes herself out of her thoughts.

“Well then. Good luck, Shayde.” She draws away, passing me and perfuming the air with jasmine. Portia follows, and once they’ve passed the threshold, the panels fold over and into their original shape. I am left in silence, alone with the Doctor’s desk. I can feel that this desk holds secrets. But where should I start? At a glance, there is a stack of books, a leather bound folio, and scrolls tucked away in the little row of drawers. I think I’ll start with the books.

There are three towering stacks of books. Some of them are threadbare in their bindings. Others are of rich leather and leafed with gold. I open a well-loved tome and flip through the pages. It appears to be a surgical guide. I note with some discomfort that some of the diagrams are stained with old blood. Though somewhat cartoonish, the illustrations are striking. A few make my hair rise. But I keep looking for some time, to satisfy my own visceral curiosity ... And because many of the pages are scrawled over with the Doctor’s notes. A drawing of a physician using a curled tool to bleed a patient has a single, dark ‘No’ scribbled beside it. Some of the writing a a distinct quality of frenzy and frustration. But other than that ... His handwriting is completely indecipherable. I can’t make heads or tails of it. Well, he _is_ a doctor and they all seem to have horrible handwriting.

Loose leaf papers are arranged neatly to one side. They are a little gold with age and thin, some almost transparent. Most of them appear to be records. Dates, times, and incomprehensible scribbles, that are the Doctor’s notes. But others are drawings. My gaze lingers over these, somewhat surprised to find them. They are meticulously detailed, but have no recognizable forms. It seems odd that they would be here among the Doctor’s work. Somehow, the patterns and shapes look very familiar, like I should know them on sight. They look almost like ... maps? No, that isn’t exactly right. I feel as though I’m missing the picture while it’s plainly in front of my eyes. I cast a glance behind me. The air is still and I am satisfied that I am alone. I roll one of the drawings into a tight scroll and stow it in my bag. I’ll have to look at that more later. I reach for the scrolls next.

I unfurl one of the scrolls, tucked away in the drawers. The paper is soft, almost powdery to the touch. It is written in the same hurried, fluid scrawl I saw in the Doctor’s notes. At the bottom of the page, isolated from the dense swath of cursive, is a single letter ‘J’. A signature? If it is signed at the bottom ... My suspicions may be correct. The letter, as I now realize it is, appears to be addressed at the top. I narrow my eyes at the scribbles on the page, trying to make sense of them. Dear ... dear sister? Once I have seen the words, I’m fairly sure of them. The letter is addressed ‘Dear sister’. A sister ... did he have one then? As far as I knew, the Doctor was a bachelor with no family to speak of. My mouth twists, uncertain what to make of this new information. I jolt at a sudden ratcheting sound behind me, causing me to quickly rewind the scroll and return it to its place. Someone is entering the library.

“Shayde~“ The back wall parts, unfolding to reveal Portia. “I hope I didn’t startle you. There’s something going on out by the garden. The Countess is requesting your presence at once. Did you find anything interesting? Clues?” I shake my head. Nothing I found has given me anything relevant for the Countess. Portia sidles up next to me, scanning the desk with bright, curious eyes.

“Well, it’ll take awhile to go through everything. You can try again later.” Portia says. She surveys the desk, tidying everywhere I’ve touched and returning everything carefully to its place.

“I’ve got the keys, so you can find me the next time you want to have a look.” Portia says with a wink. “But for now ... let’s go see what all the fuss is about.” We leave the library together. Portia’s pace is hurried, far from the spirited step I would normally expect. And she doesn’t speak. The longer we walk in silence, the more anxious I become. What awaits me in the garden? The garden below is livelier in the day. A symphony of birdsong echos from every direction. I spy the Countess, looking out over the garden with her hands held sagely behind her back.

“Forgive me for drawing you away from your task, Shayde. I do not wish to obstruct your investigations.” The Countess begins. “It just so happens that I was thinking about that fortune you gave me earlier.” She turns to face me. Her expression is mysteriously neutral. This doesn’t bode well.

“Rumor would have it that I dislike fortune tellers. This is not entirely true.” She says. I am not liking the sound of this one bit. “I only dislike those that profit by saying whatever they want to say ... Or by telling their clients whatever they want to hear.” She fixes me with a look of gentle disappointment. My heart drops into my stomach as my indignation rises. She assumes I’m a fraud?

“I want desperately to believe that you are neither, Shayde.” Countess Nadia says. “But if we are to succeed in our little venture, I must trust your skill. And so ... I have devised a test. More of a game, really.” What? This is getting worse by the second. _She_ comes to me because of _her_ dreams and now says she must test me to prove I am the real deal?

“If you win, then we can move forward with our plan, and I need never doubt your worth again.” She continues. “And if you lose ... you will be free to go, and I shall trouble you no further. Now then ... let us summon your competitors. Portia, would you kindly call the prey?” Portia looks dumbfounded for second.

“The prey?” She asks. “Oh! Oh, the outfits make sense now. Okay.” Outfits? Prey? Portia goes to the edge of the balcony. She takes a long breath, and unleashes a piercing whistle. As I move to the balustrade, the Countess follows at my shoulder, peering down into the garden. Gradually, two figures emerge from the shrubbery, shuffling with obvious reluctance. They are dressed head to toe in fanciful costume. One as a rabbit, the other a deer.

“The game is to hide and hunt. Shayde, you will be the hunter.” Countess Nadia explains. “These two will be your prey. You need not hesitate on their behalf. They have earned their place. You, down there.” The costumed figures jerk to attention.

“You may remove your masks. For the moment.” The Countess says. With cautious, awkward movements, the rabbit and deer unfasten the masks from their faces. I recognize them at once. The guards from the bridge ... so this is their punishment. Portia mentioned that the Countess would be displeased when she learned of my treatment at their hands the other day.

“Milady, this is embarrassing ... “ The Rabbit guard ventures. Countess Nadia is on him before he can say anything more.

“You are embarrassing. Have you already forgotten how beastly you were to our guest?” She says, fury barely contained. “It is only fitting that you should be dressed as such.” The guards drop to a humble kneel, cautious of their costumes.

“Yes, milady!” Says the deer guard. The rabbit remains quiet. Content, the Countess turns to me, a sympathetic crease in her brow. So, she is concerned about how I am treated by staff, but basically says I may prove to be worthless should I fail her test? Interesting.

“I do hope it does not trouble you to chase them. They were most unfriendly to you, were they not?” She asks. I can’t argue with that.

“They were unfriendly all right.” I say. Watching the guards squirm is ... surprisingly satisfying. It is not the punishment I would have chosen, but clearly I’m not in charge.

“Please, spare no detail on their behalf. I should like to know the whole of this ghastly behavior. Portia told me a little.” The Countess instructs me. I tap my chin in thought as the guards quiver below us.

“They threatened me.” I begin. “They might have said something about slicing me without remorse. Or maybe not. It’s hazy.” I can’t remember the exact wording they used, but no matter.

“Of course it is hazy.” Countess Nadia says. “You were surely in a state of panic. If it is any comfort, I do hope you will enjoy making sport of them.” She smiles a mischievous smile.

“Guards!” She calls.

“Yes, milady!”

“Return your masks.” She orders. “Or do you still object to them?” That is a rhetorical question, if I have ever heard one.

“No, milady ... “ The Countess gives that smile again.

“Splendid.” She says. “Then put them on.” The hulking figures obey, quaking in their boots and pinned by her simmering gaze. Their fearsome bravado from yesterday is nowhere to be seen ... I could get used to this. I smile a little myself.

“Well then, if there are no more objections ... “ Countess Nadia says. “I shall explain the purpose of the game. This morning at breakfast, I found myself considering the task before us. We seek to find one man in a city of thousands ... a city where gossip moves more swiftly than we possibly could.” I think back to yesterday and the baker wanting to talk. Gossip travels swiftly, indeed.

“Daunting, but not impossible.” The Countess goes on. “Fate has already drawn him back to town for us. But for what purpose, and for how long? Our window of opportunity may be quite slim. I came to the conclusion that we must not pursue him without knowing exactly where to look. Easier said than done, of course. The Doctor’s desk may very well hold the key, but how long before we find it? And then I thought ... perhaps we might use what we have in another way. Perhaps we might use magic.” Her gaze rests on upon me, gauging my reaction. I assume that is the whole reason I am here.

“Is it not possible that something in that desk holds meaning to the Doctor?” Countess Nadia musses. “Something dear to him, an attachment that might linger to this day? Even a single leaf of paper may posses a tether to his soul, so that a magician need only follow it. And if that is indeed possible ... is your magic refined enough to do it?” I bite my lip at that. Given what I’ve found in the desk so far, it is very possible. But my magic has never been used for anything like that. I would be flying blind.

“If you have never done such a thing before, worry not.” The Countess assures. I begin to wonder if she can read minds. “You are about to do just that. Each of your prey will be trying to evade you. Moving targets, as the Doctor will be. They will hide wherever they so please. Your goal is to hunt one of them down.” One? Why only one?

“One of them ... to whom I have given a single leaf of paper.” She goes on. “Your Emperor card.” My heart stutters, and my eyes go wide. The Countess returns my incredulous stare with a patient, shameless smile. She couldn’t have ... when did she ... This morning, at the reading ... She took the card from the table to examine it. And never gave it back. This is no bluff. She’s really given one of them my Emperor card. Not mine ... but Asra’s. I feel a hot flash of panic course through my veins. I may not yet understand it, but his deck is uncommonly powerful. To lose one of the so-called major arcana ... Not lost. More like stolen. Ugh, I was careless. In the Countess’ presence, I won’t make that mistake again.

“Well then.” She says with faux innocence. “Do you understand the instructions? It is quite simple. Find the guard carrying your Emperor card before dawn. So long as you can do this, I am confident you will be able to lead me to the Doctor’s door.” She lays a hand on my trembling shoulder, and leans in to speak softly.

“Trust your intuition, Shayde.” She says. “I trusted mine, and it led me to you.” If she really trusted hers, this game wouldn’t be necessary. The Countess glides over to the balustrade, folding her arms over her chest.

“You! Down there!” She calls.

“Yes, milady!” Says the Rabbit.

“What would you have us to do?” Asks the Deer. The Countess’ expression shifts to a sneer.

“Run. Run as if capture meant your swift and certain death.” The guards scramble to their feet. In a flash, they have bolted in opposite directions. Great.

“Oh my. I do hope they know I’m not serious about that.” The Countess laughs. “And Shayde? You may pursue them at my mark. I implore you not to disappoint me.” The sound of beating footfalls is growing farther and farther away. I swallow hard. Of all the pointless ... But I have to have that card back.

“Now then. Let the game begin!” Countess Nadia says. Cursing my fate, I spring into action, dashing down the steps and into the gardens.


	2. Night

I dash down the stairs into the garden. On the veranda above, the Countess is calling sweetly at my heels.

“You have until dawn. Do take care in the night, Shayde.”

“Good luck, Shayde!” Portia calls. Luck?! If it was up to luck, I would still be at the shop and not running like a lunatic after pretend prey. Skidding on the gravel, I whip my head left and right. To the right ... snapping branches, the more cumbersome rabbit guard. To the left ... muffled footfalls, beating the earth at a furious pace. The deer guard, who looked particularly nervous. But I feel called to follow the rabbit. I follow him under a marble arch, and the foliage on either side of the path grows thicker. It looks like the rabbit guard barreled straight into the bushes. Impressive. Feeling over-dressed, I duck into the rabbit hole, leaves tickling at my arms and face. I’m getting that card back. And when I get it back, I might just give the Countess a piece of my mind ... Maybe. I’ve only been a single day at the Palace, but I can admit she’s kept me one step behind. It’s annoying. I’m not used to being fooled.

Up ahead, I see light dappling through a break in the leaves. I charge through to the other side ... Only to find myself in the maze. The one I had wandered through last night. I swipe at my beading brow. They’re not going to make this easy for me. Strangely, I feel invigorated. Cool air sweeps past my ankles, guiding me into the shadowy maze.

The sun is high overhead, waning toward the horizon when I reach the fountain in the maze’s center. After hunting the rabbit guard in the maze for hours, my heart thrills when I finally spot him ... But he is not alone. At the other edge of the perimeter from where I stand, the rabbit is backed against a pale tree. Creeping toward him with a rattling growl ... Are the dogs. Mercedes and Melchior. After my dramatic entrance, I have the attention of all three. The guard’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t dare move. The hounds go rigid, but quickly recover. Mercedes starts bounding towards me, with Melchior close behind. I stagger back, but they are already upon me. To my shock, they start sniffing me all over, short puffs from their noble snouts tickling my skin. Whatever they smell must be pleasing to them. Before I know it, they are nuzzling against me, tails swinging in interest. I look up at the guard and we exchange a look of profound confusion. I then feel a tug at my hip.

While Melchior laps at my palm, Mercedes is looking at me expectantly. With a huff, she tugs at my bag a second time. Melchior sits back, panting with a wide grin. What could they possibly want? I let my bag slide from my shoulder, and the dogs start to whine. I rifle through my possessions, the stolen document from the library and my magical necessities. Surely it isn’t those. Impatient, Melchior butts the bottom of my bag with his sharp skull. Into my hand rolls the gift from Portia, the pomegranate. As soon as it emerges from the bag, both sets of glistening jaws drop open, tongues lolling on either side. Their tails whip the air with excitement, eyes frenzied with joy.

“Is this what you’re after?” I ask. Slowly, cautious of their dripping mouths, I crouch down and let the pomegranate roll from my palm. The dogs dive for it at once, wet shredding sounds and vicious bickering. This is my chance! I leap to my feet, ready to charge after the rabbit guard ... Who, of course, is already gone. A growl of writhing frustration makes its way up my throat.

I’m considering my next move when the hounds sidle up to me, narrow mouths stained a gruesome red from the fruit. Both nudge my flanks as they pass, trotting just ahead of me. They turn to me curiously, licking their gory chops. They ... are they wanting me to follow? It is a hunt, after all ... maybe they’re interested in joining? I could certainly use their help. Though I’m apprehensive, I follow the dogs back into the maze. The trotting pace set by my unlikely companions has me at an uneasy jog. Where are they taking me? Whenever I slow, they turn to stare at me until I catch up. Our winding path leads us to the edge of the garden, where a great wall of lemonstone rises high overhead.

After a while, the dogs come to a halt, each on either side of an overgrown arch streaked with grime. At its apex are too marble goats, their horns clashing in eternal combat. Mercedes sits on one side, and Melchior takes the other, standing like sentries. They want me to pass under the arch. The longer I stand waiting and looking, the more their faces grow sour. And the more I am sure there is something strange about the passage they want me to take.

A rusty groan draws all of our attentions to a small door in the wall, burnished and dusty. It’s open, just a sliver. The light that pours in is impossibly bright ... it couldn’t be. An exit? From the Palace grounds? The dogs seem to sense my realization, fur bristling around their swan-like necks.

I move around the arch, cautiously, as if I’m taking it in with wonder. It has a strange aura about it. I get as close as I can before I bolt to the side, dashing for the open door. Outraged, the dogs scramble after me. Their teeth snap just shy of my heels as I barrel through the door and slam it shut. On the other side, jaws and claws gnash viciously against the rusted metal, but it doesn’t budge. I stagger back with deep, heaving breaths. Wind sweeps through my garments, and I squint out over the valley. It’s steeper than I expected, and the brush is untamed. I don’t mind. With one last glance behind me, I break into a run down the hill just in case the door doesn’t hold. The golden grass whips my limbs and sweet-smelling air streams around me. I’m free ... whatever that means ... for now.

The sky is growing dark, air cool on my sun-beaten brow as I make my way back into the city. The rolling hills level out. Silky brush grass grows sparse and gives way to the cracked, flat plane of rose-colored clay. I’m in an unfamiliar part of town. My breath grows short as tremors of anxiety radiate from my gut, spreading to my fingertips. Echos of Asra’s familiar voice soothe over my mind’s ear. Start with your breath. Think only about your breath. Savor your breath, lead with your heart and be present. I’ve been conditioned to embrace these feelings of excitement. Finding the calm I need, I gather up an aura of protective energy. It won’t hide me, but it will allow me to travel unbothered.

There is a group of spindly cats picking over piles of charred, oily fish bones. They pay me no mind as I walk between them. Their inky forms slide around my feet, close to my ankles when we pass each other. I follow the sound of rushing water as a profound thirst clings to the back of my throat. The dull roar leads me to a narrow, slippery street. Its shabby stones are layered like scales. Clustered apartments line the passage, their shutters thrown wide open, conversation and squabbling spilling out into the thick night air. Suddenly a door in front of me swings open, casting a warm light down three jagged stone steps. Raucous laughter and music spills out of the doorway, while boots clip jauntily down the stairs.

“Oh, I’ll be back. Just stepping out for some air.” A familiar voice says. The door swings shut, and I stumble back as if the muscles of my legs have liquified. The murderous Doctor Devorak. His back is turned to me as he swipes long fingers through his hair. I try to back away but something hits the back of my knees, toppling me noisily into a thankfully empty barrel. The next thing I know, I’m staring at the stars, limbs flailing uselessly as quick boot-steps approach.

“Hello, that was quite a tumble, are you all right?” The Doctor leans over the barrel, extending a hand to help. He rears back in shock and confusion at the sight of me.

“The ... the shopkeep? What are you doing here?” He asks. Then, he smiles cheeky. “Little early in the evening to be stumbling around in alleys, isn’t it? I’m joking. It’s never too early. Come on, upsy-daisy.” A firm grip encircles each of my wrists, and I’m hauled out of the barrel like a snail shucked from its shell. I stagger forward right into the Doctor’s broad, gleaming chest, which I can see at the moment because he is without his jacket or overcoat. He looks so much more casual in just the plain white collared shirt, though he is still wearing the gloves. In the confusion, all of my possessions tumble from my bag onto the ground. Knocked off balance, he promptly shifts his grip to my upper arms and steps back, stabilizing us both. For a moment, his eye meets mine in surprise at our sudden proximity. Then, with a friendly pat to my arms, he releases me.

“Sooo you, ah, last I heard, you ... you were bound for the Palace.” The Doctor begins with audible awkwardness. “Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods?” What neck of the woods? Finally recovering my wits, I take a quick survey of my surroundings. Judging by the barrels and the noise, we’re behind a tavern. A hole on the wall, hidden from the street. Painted on the door is a cackling black bird, lying back on a crescent moon. The Rowdy Raven, it reads. I’ve never heard of this place ... The Doctor’s voice jolts me back into the moment.

“Oh, what’s this?” I look back to see that the Doctor is gathering my scattered belongings ... and has taken an interest in the scroll I stole from his desk in the library. His curious fingers are already unrolling the yellow page. I snatch the scroll out of his hands, leaving him blinking at thin air.

“That ... is that mine?” He asks. I draw the parchment close to my chest, but he’s already seen. What’s more, he might be the only person capable of explaining it. Curiosity compelled me to take the thing in the first place ... would he be willing to reveal its contents to me? As I’m debating, the Doctor calls for action, whisking the scroll from my grasp and turning his back to me. Well, _that_ was mature.

“Hey!”

“Where did you find this?” He asks. I reach around him, but he leans away, resting his back up against the wall and scanning the page with interest. I sigh, resigning myself.

“Your desk.” I say.

“My desk?” I nod, but he looks at me as if he is lost.

“In the library.” He blinks at me in confusion. “... At the Palace.” A searching glance to the side, and I see a flinch of pain cross over his countenance.

“Oh yes. My desk in the library. At the Palace.” He repeats. “Little window right above it.” I nod again slowly, watching the Doctor massage his pinched brow. He groans, rolls up the scroll, and hands it back to me. The Doctor wipes a hand over his face, places it on his hip, and casts a glance to the tavern window. Its warm light glows between us. He turns to me with a dynamic expression. I sense trouble.

“Well, I am parched. Think I’ll head back in.” He announces. “Are you thirsty? You’re welcome to join me, if you’d like to.” Oh, really? I’m even more suspicious now. The Countess’ certainty of the Doctor’s guilt must be getting to me, but that might not be a bad thing.

“You know, I do still owe you for the reading you gave me.” The Doctor goes on. “My treat?”

“I am thirsty.” I say. That is an understatement. It feels like I’m dying of thirst. Warily, I step closer into the shadow of the Doctor’s looming figure. By the stars, he is tall! His face splits into a brilliant grin.

“Oh, fantastic. Please, allow me.” He beckons me up the steps to the door, easing it open and leading me through to the warmth inside. It’s only just past sundown, but the tavern is in full swing. The noise is cacophonous. The barkeep, wide, scar-faced and barrel-armed, gives the Doctor a cheeky salute when we pass by. A cackling drunkard swings out a wooden leg, which Doctor Devorak politely pushes aside. He ushers me through the tumult with practiced ease. I duck as a haggard raven flutters in after us from the alley, squawking and beating its wings against the windows. Tutting, my escort winds an arm around my shoulders and guides me to a cozy booth in the back.

“What can I get you to drink?” He asks. I scan the bar at a distance. Colorful bottles line the walls, some flavored with roots and herbs, others with coins, rocks, and beetles. The Doctor must notice my apprehension.

“You know, how about I take of it and you make yourself comfortable?” He suggests. “I’ll be right back.” He breezes past me towards the bar. I settle into my seat, fidgeting with the scroll in my lap as my eyes start to wander. Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a card game, attended by an energetic, squabbling crowd. The sight reminds me of Asra’s deck, as well as the other contents of my bag. Stomach dropping, I dive for it to check. Miraculously, the desk is safe and sound at the bottom of my bag, though its energy is abnormal. Of course, with the Emperor missing ... Still, I relax, even more so when I find my missing possessions stacked on the bench beside the Doctor’s seat.

Smiling faintly, I find my gaze seeking him out at the bar, where he is chatting with the barkeep. Laughter erupts between them, audible from my spot in the corner. He looks perfectly at ease. His aura is so different from when I first met him in my shop ... It is a strange contrast, to be sure. I shift my gaze to the tabletop as he turns. He makes his way back with our drinks and sets mine before me.

“There you are.” He slides into the booth across from me, gulping down his drink with gusto. Wary, I peer into the golden liquid in my cup. No beetles at least. Smells faintly like fruit. I take a sip. It’s refreshing, barely sweet, and fizzes on the way down. As soon as it washes down my throat, I need more. All day I’ve been running in the sun, and it hits me powerfully. The Doctor slowly lowers his stein to watch me drain my cup, eye gleaming brightly in the warm light.

“Look at you, you’re as dry as a bone.” He says. “Drink, drink.” A few more disparate gulps and it’s gone. While I lick the seam of my lips, the Doctor slides his stein to the side and leans closer. Suddenly the air feels charged.

“You know, I never did get your name.” Fingers interlocking on the table between us, he gives me a look of encouragement.

“... Shayde.” I say, somewhat uncertainly. The Doctor smiles.

“Ahh. Shayde, what a lovely name.” He says wistfully. “A musical name. _Shayde_. You can call me Julian, Shayde.” He offers his hand. Though I hesitate to place mine in his leathery grip, I manage. His smile broadens into a toothy grin.

“So Shayde, I have to ask. How did you wind up in that alley?” He asks. “You know at first I thought you might have come for me? On behalf of the Palace, of course. But I’m not wearing any chains yet, and you’re covered in burs. Now I may be projecting, but ... I’m sensing that you’re on the run.” His knowing look makes me bristle. No one is paying us any mind, but I’m still tempted to cover his chatty mouth. Chuckling, he reaches past my ear and pulls a bramble from my shoulder.

“Escaped from the Palace ... down the southward side? Ah, we have so much in common already.” That gives me a slight pause. I hadn’t been intending to escape the Palace, just the dogs. Julian’s voice breaks into my thoughts.

“Do you have anywhere to go? Back to the magic shop?” I sit up straight at the mention of home, but he raises a cautionary finger. “Oh, but that is the very first place they‘ll look. I can still tell you how to get there, but-“ He trails off.

“You can?” I ask. I’m waiting for the punchline.

“You bet I can.” Julian says. “But first, I’d have to take another look at that document.” A painless trade. Huh. I hand over the scroll, and he spreads it flat across the table. Once exposed, its contents steal the smile from his face. He leans over the page, frowning in concentration. The map-like, winding patterns draw me in once again. I find myself leaning over the scroll for a closer look. I only look away when I feel Julian’s eye on me.

“You’re very interested in it.” He observes. I shrug.

“It looks familiar.” This seems to surprise him, and he peers down at the picture as if looking down a bottomless pit.

“Oh. Well ... this is a slice of, ah ... of a human brain.” He says. I feel my eyes go wide. Wordless, I tentatively trace the weaving trails. “That’s ... they that call the ‘grey matter’. Makes up most of the organ ... the coils are unique, actually, to each individual.” He sounds almost like a teacher, and while this is interesting, I am more curious about how _he_ learned this.

“How many individuals?” I ask almost in a whisper. It is a very vaguely worded question, and not at all how I intended to phrase it. I wait to see if he understands my cryptic query.

“Beg pardon?” Julian asks. I meet his gaze, and he stiffens with trepidation. I think he knows what I am asking and is hoping I’ll not ask again. But I have to know.

“How many individual human brains have you seen sliced like this?” I clarify. Julian steeples his fingers and rests his chin on his thumbs. His expression is ghastly to look at. I almost tell him to forget it.

“I wish I could tell you.” He replies. “There are other drawings, aren’t there? At the Palace?” I nod slowly, and he drums his fingers on his clenched teeth in clear distress.

“Well, you’d better put that one back. Trust me, they’ll notice it’s gone.” Julian tells me, tapping a finger on the drawing. As if he can’t stand to look at it a moment longer, he rolls it up and holds it out to me. I take the scroll and stow it in my bag. It feels heavier now, as if the page took on the weight of his ominous words.

“Excuse me.” Whisking away our empty steins, Julian heads back to the bar. I huff through my nose, more curious than ever before. Shrill bickering erupts from the card-playing crones’ table. I turn to see spectators throwing their hands up in the air. Meanwhile beyond them, I watch as Julian makes quick work at the bar. On his way back he is accosted at the card game, wrist snatched by a bony claw. After a moment of deliberation, he leans in, whispers to one of the crones, and taps a single card in her hand. The card is played, throwing the crowd into chaos. Julian ducks away just as someone douses him with their drink. He’s still wiping it away, chuckling when he returns to his seat.

“You would think I’d know better than to get involved with politics.” He says by way of explanation.

“Looks to me like you know all the right moves.” I reply. He cocks an eyebrow at me, setting our drinks down and leaning one arm on the table in what I have to admit is a rather debonair pose. He knows how adorable he is and flaunts it. That is truly unfair.

“Well, once you’ve made all the wrong ones ...“ Julian says with a wry grin. “What can I say? Some call me clever, but I’m just ... practiced with weighing the options. Options like ‘bad’ or ‘worse’. That’s life for you.” He rubs the back on his neck, glancing sidelong at the door. He has been doing that the whole time. Constantly checking his exits. I wonder if he even realizes he does it.

“Or maybe I’m just paranoid. The barkeep says I’ve got more in common with the raven than anyone else.” Julian adds, almost in afterthought. So, he _is_  aware.

“Raven?” I question. I recall the skeletal raven that followed us in from the alley. It must have gotten back out somehow, because I don’t see it when I glance around.

“Ah, the rowdy one.” Julian supplies. “He spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively, even. He raises hell whenever they come by. Even the sight of the Count’s crest drives him wild. Oddly enough, I don’t think anyone trained him to be that way.” Julian laughs softly, and his gaze falls to back to me. “Though I suppose we’re all trained to be that way.” The words have a mysterious gravity. I feel as though he’s trying to tell me something more. Suddenly the raven in question bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with a guttural shriek.

“Oh, for crying ou-” Julian mutters. The bird beats itself against a string of bells, and the tavern erupts into utter chaos.

“Guards! Palace guards!” Calls the barkeep. Patrons claw their way out every door and window, playing cards tossed and fluttering in the wind. Before I can react, Julian scoops me bodily from my seat and rushes me out the back door, back into the alley. The night is cold now. The Doctor casts a frantic glance up and down the alley before crowding me into the shadows. He leans down and speaks in a whisper.

“Go back up that road, take a left, a right, a _sharp_ right, and you’ll reach a round street.” He says hurriedly. “It’s long, but it’s a straight shot and it’ll take you as far as the marketplace. From there ... You’ll be able to find your way, yes?” Jittering, I nod. He clasps my upper arms and leads me back to the mouth of the alley.

“Up the road, left, right, sharp right. Round street. Good luck, Shayde.” I’m released, and I stumble into the road. Oil-slick rats disappear into the gutters, and the apartments have their shutters locked. I cast one last glance back to the alley, but the Doctor is already gone. Typical. I’m loathe to admit that I kinda wish he was still here. In the blink of an eye, the street has fallen silent as the grave, and I am the only living thing in sight. Head spinning, I dash up the road from whence I came. Left ... then right. Spectral alley cats scatter to the shadows as I whip past. The stone path is broken and winding, narrower and narrower until I reach a very sharp right. A round, open street. This must be the one ... I heave with exhaustion, and slow my pace to a jog. Still, my mind races. I’ve always been wary of the Palace guards, but never feared them like this. Even if this road takes me to the shop, even if I’m not spotted along the way ... there’s a good chance I’ll find them waiting for me.

I’m so lost in worry that I’m not watching my footing, and I trip over a vagrant’s knees. Helpless to stop myself, I collapse with them in an ungainly pile. By some miracle, the vagrant below me is of a very sturdy build. They also sport a spotless, white costume. A ... a rabbit? I don’t believe it. By the look they give me, caged under my considerably lesser weight, they don’t believe it either. Why, no, how did they find me? Or ... was it I who found them? The gaping guard below me doesn’t seem to know either. Across the street, the door of a stationary carriage swings open ... and Portia emerges from within. She jolts at the sight of me.

“Oh my god.” Portia gasps out. Another, more authoritative voice comes from the inside of the carriage. I know at once who it is.

“What? What was that sound?” The Countess peeks out of the carriage, and her lovely red stare falls upon me. She blinks at a hummingbird’s wingbeat speed.

“Shayde! Where on earth did you come from?” She asks.

“That way.” Portia gestures to where I had come from, while the guard manages to disentangle our limbs quickly and effectively. This whole situation is weirdly tense. I can’t say I care much for it.

“Uncanny ... why, we only just arrived.” The Countess musses. “I agonized over choosing the right spot to hide. And we had finally, _finally_ settled on this one ... Ludo, take the reins. We will be returning early.” The guard shuffles to the front of the carriage, eyeing me in wonder. Meanwhile, Portia hustles me inside. Dazed, I settle tentatively into the plush interior. The Countess observes me with obvious delight. It is mildly creepy.

“It is extraordinarily rare that anyone should exceed my expectations, Shayde.” She begins. “I apologize for what must have been a most tedious trial to a magician of your prowess.” Countess Nadia pulls a silken pouch from her waist and passes it graciously to me. My heartbeat hastens as I pull the drawstring. The silk falls away to reveal the Emperor card. I can almost feel the deck in my bag react to its presence.

“I can only wonder ... if you are the apprentice, how proud the master must be.” The Countess says. Though I’ve someone won our little game, it is she who is eyeing me like a prize. I swallow, throat dry. That drink with Julian seems ages ago. Staring down at the Emperor, I can’t help but feel as if he and the other arcana are making sport of me. But why?

“Do take this time to rest. It will be a while yet before we arrive. A feast awaits you.” Countess Nadia informs me. “And a bath, if you will agree to it.” Absently, I nod. Thoughts of leaving seem foolish now. Fate has decided for me. This business with the Countess ... we were fated to meet, and fated to see this through.The carriage lurches to action, and with sharp, echoing hoofbeats, we depart from the gloomy street. The next thing I know, the Palace looms over the carriage as we approach, a white monolith against the twinkling night sky. At some point I dozed off, the gentle sway of the carriage too seductive for my exhausted mind. I awaken to comfortable silence. The Countess is turned toward the window with a serene smile.

As soon as we disembark from the carriage, a host of servants arrive to sweep me up for a bath. Tightly flanked on both sides, I am lead through the halls and past my quarters to a bathing hall. I suppose the Countess intends to bathe me whether I like it or not. There’s no escaping my escort, not that I really care to try. A bath sounds wonderful. I can’t muster the energy to protest that I can undress myself as they quickly strip me and usher me into a large marble tub. With a fluttery groan, I sink into the perfumed water and let the day’s tension and filth melt away from me. I don’t notice Portia until she clears her throat, waiting expectantly in the doorway. A glittering bundle rests in her arms, shimmering in hues of burnt sienna and rich tyrian purple.

“Milady is waiting for you in the dining room. She’d like you to wear these.” Portia tosses me a cheeky look and sets a new outfit on a tiled bench against the far wall. She slips out of the room leaving me to my thoughts and the softly sloshing water. I exit the tub reluctantly and pad across the luxurious bathroom to the bench, leaving a small river in my wake.

This new ensemble is woven of a heavier silk than the last, which seems to have been whisked away. It was probably ruined anyway. I run my hands over the smooth grain, then slide the clothing on. It’s perfect for the balmy night air. When I exit the bath chamber, Portia is waiting outside, fingers tapping a jaunty rhythm against the wall.

“Sooo you took quite a little trip into town today, huh? Meet up with anybody special?” She asks. My vulnerable expression makes her snort with laughter. She places a hand on my back, and leads me briskly toward the dining hall, and faint echos of music. The grand doors swing open as we arrive to reveal an expansive feast, piled high upon the long table. I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sumptuous smells and sights of the food before me. Everything is richly seasoned with Vesuvian spices. I recognize the scent of saffron waving towards me.

“Why, if it isn’t my champion of the hour, fresh from the bath. Hello, Shayde.” The Countess greets me. A servant seats me and fills my glass with a pale beverage as the Countess stands to raise a toast.

“To Shayde, whose talents have exceeded my highest expectations.” She begins. “Let us be strangers no longer. May this be the beginning of a valuable friendship. I look forward to a long and fruitful partnership with you. I’m sure you will not disappoint.” She looks me in the eyes then drains her glass in one motion, setting it down gently when she’s done. I take a sip of the rosy drink. The delicate floral taste reminds me of the Countess’ perfume.

“Ah, lest we forget ... “ Countess Nadia says, suddenly. “Bludmila, Ludovico.” The Countess casts her gaze sidelong, toward the kitchen door. Moments later, two figures slink sheepishly into the dining hall. The guards. The rabbit and deer, divested of their animal costumes. They shift nervously, armor jostling as they adjust their posture and straighten expectantly for orders.

“For being such admirable sports, I would forgive their trespasses. But the slight was against you, Shayde.” The Countess observes. “Shall we invite them to join us at the table tonight, or shall I send them away?”

“Send them away.” I state firmly. “They put me through enough trouble today.” My naturally introverted mind is begging for some quiet, a space with less people in it. The guards look longingly at the feast, but Portia quickly whisks them away once more. Nadia’s lips twitch up as she appraises me, looking amused by the dismissal.

“Not one to easily forgive an insult, Shayde? Perhaps we have something in common.” She takes another sip from her refilled glass, and settles back into her seat. So, I have something in common with a Countess and ‘so much’ in common with a suspected murderer. This has been a strange day. I can’t wait for it to be over already.

“Tomorrow we shall dine together with my courtiers.” Nadia informs me. “They are most eager to make your acquaintance. I have no doubt they will find you absolutely charming. They will want to know everything about you. But choose wisely what you wish to tell. I will be informing them of the Masquerade as well. I imagine they will be ecstatic.” I nod slowly, chewing and swallowing somewhat hard to accomplish. The ways of the court are foreign to me, and I am content to keep it that way. But the Countess will be there. No doubt she will ensure that my premiere goes smoothly. I can trust, at the very least, that she won’t allow me to be too much of an embarrassment.

“Portia and a retinue of our loudest servants will be going to town tomorrow, to make the announcement.” Nadia continues. “Once the townspeople hear, word will spread on its own. And then it shall be out of our hands. We must ensure there is sufficient audience for our final spectacle. This is of utmost importance.” The Countess’ crimson gaze narrows, as if she is peering into an unfavorable horizon.

“When the Doctor hangs, he will hang for all who wish to see.” She declares. I think of Julian as he was tonight, bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the tavern. Then my mind shows me him swinging from the gallows. My heart grows cold at the image, but I’m careful not to let it show on my face.

“But those are tomorrow’s matters.” The Countess concludes. “Tonight, Shayde, I have questions.”

“Questions?” I ask. I’m startled by the sudden attention. She is watching me so carefully.

“Yes, I wish to become familiar with you. We will be working very closely, after all.” She replies. I’m caught a little off guard, but quickly recover. I didn’t expect her to have any interest in who I was. She asks me simple questions. How I enjoy the town, my daily goings on, my favorite thing to eat, etc. I ask her questions in turn, and learn that her favorite food is spiced swordfish.

“Have you ever had it, Shayde?” The Countess asks. “It’s quite delicious.” I shake my head.

“No, I don’t think I have.” I answer.

“In Prakra, it is a summer dish.” Nadia explains. “I would hardly suffer a warm night without it.” Prakra, a vast empire in the North. The Countess’ home, though I had thought it was only a rumor. “The kitchen does try to humor my requests, but alas, they can never seem to spice it quite right.” She looks back to me with a wry smile and lifts her drink to her lips once more.

“I’m quite enjoying our talk, Shayde, but I admit I do not savor having an audience.” She casts her glance about the dining room, before rising slowly. “I wonder, if you would join me on the veranda for a nightcap?” Nadia looks down at me, a soft smile tugging at her lips. I flush under her scrutiny. “Just the two of us.” Then she holds her hand out towards me, waiting expectantly. I hate to disappoint her, but ...

“No thank you.” I say.

“Ah, you are tired? Or perhaps shy ... ?” Nadia says. I don’t get a chance to answer because she continues. “It is quite alright, Shayde. Whatever your reasons, I understand completely. Well, no need to waste good cordial. I think I shall take it in my room, then. I do hope you will have a pleasant evening, Shayde.” The Countess then turns to the staff.

“Portia, please show our guest back to her room.” Nadia exits the dining room, the scent of jasmine lingering in the air for a moment before fading as well. Portia appears at my elbow, smiling warmly.

“Well! What an eventful day, huh? Come on I’ll walk you back to your room.” Portia says. I nod gratefully, and get to my feet, following Portia out. The walk back to the guest room is less eventful tonight. Mercedes and Melchior are nowhere to be seen, thank the stars. Our footsteps echo in the empty halls. Portia walks cheerfully beside me, while my feet feel like lead weights.

“Things are a lot more interesting around here since you showed up.” Portia says. “Did you see Bludmila and Ludovico’s faces when they were summoned to dinner? Oh my god. I thought Ludo would die on the spot. He’s always had a nervous constitution.” She talks about the guards as if they’re old friends. I start to wonder how well she knows the servants here.

“Do you spend a lot of time with the other servants?” I ask when she stops for breath. Portia pauses in stride to answer.

“We work together pretty closely.“ She says. “It’s my job to know who and what’s happening at the Palace.” She winks conspiratorially at me, and then starts walking again, her hair swaying with the bounce in her step. We arrive at the door to my guest room. Portia waits expectantly for me to enter. It seems servants came during the day to tidy up. They’ve placed a fresh pitcher of water on the desk. Incense burns by the window, filling the room with hazy swirls of wood and spice. Portia looks as if she’s dying to ask me a question, but it falters before it can escape her lips. She smooths her hand over the papers on my desk. I recognize them as the ones I took from Julian’s study.

“What happens after I capture the Doctor?” I ask. “Will there be a trial?” It has been bothering me since I agreed to help the Countess. No one has once questioned whether or not he was the true murderer.

“No ... Milady is certain of his guilt.” Portia says thoughtfully. “The execution will continue as scheduled.” I feel now is a good time to voice an observation I’ve had about Portia.

“You seem concerned.”

“Concerned?” Portia asks. “Me? Maybe. It’s just ... I don’t know, he’s not the only suspect, right? Sure, many people loved the Count, but ... just between you and me ... I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too.”

“Enemies? Who?” I enquire. Portia shakes her head and runs her hands down the front of her skirt absently.

“I wasn’t employed at the Palace when it happened. I’ve only heard rumors of what went on that night. Just ... keep your eyes peeled for anything suspicious, all right?” Portia pauses, looking from left to right, them widens her eyes as she leans in close to me, voice low.

“Y’know ... if you’re not too tired yet, I could show you around the place.” She offers. “There’s a lot of interesting things on the Palace grounds. Maybe I could show you some secrets ... If you think you can handle them.” Is she teasing me? She smiles, giving me another wink, and tilts her head, waiting for an answer.

“I’m far too tired.” I say regretfully.

“Aw, that’s too bad.” Portia says. “I thought we could get into a little mischief ... Buuut I get it. You had a long day running around. Chasing rabbits and deer and ... Who knows what else.” What was that suppose to mean? That sounds scarily like something Julian would say ...

“Get some rest, okay?” Portia continues. “Tomorrow milady wants you to join us in town to announce the Masquerade. I’ll be back at dawn, don’t sleep in!” With that, she’s gone, fabrics swishing as she glides down the hallway. I’m alone with my thoughts now. But sleep quickly steals them away.


End file.
